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The Witching Hour Venture High School Literary Magazine Fall 2020

Artwork
Drawing: The Peaceful Butterfly by Andrea Hughes
Photoshop
Photoshop: Photo Manipulation by Carli Miller
Photoshop: Photo Manipulation by Carli Miller
Photography
White Rock & The Big Bison by Andrea Hughes (Antelope Island, UT) . The Two Bees by Andrea Hughes (Ogden Nature Center, UT)
Photography by Frisk Durbin
Fall Leaves By Emma Gunnell (Adam's Canyon, Kaysville, UT)
1 - Lilac Despair- The saturated purple background contrasts with the orange-yellow in the flowers, which make them both look nice. This picture almost looks sad, but we'll never know if he's crying... 2 - Road of Apollo- The golden landscape is mesmerizing to look into, and the row of trees in the back provide a good focal point. The sky is textured and fades nicely from green to blue. 2 - Warmth- This photo contains many colors of yellow and orange the pop out at you, and contrast against the pines trees resting in the back. The yellow grass in the front creates a nice foreground. 3 - Yellow Trail- This photo creates a feeling of nostalgia. the spots of light could be memories calling out to you from the bushes. The many pine trees in the back create a good background, and make the row of bushes in the front pop out. Photography by Justin Smith.
The Birch- This photo has many layers to look at, it's pretty dark, but gets lighter as you move in. It's meant to be overly edited to look older, almost antique. I was going for an antique horror look. Photography by Justin Smith.
Videography

November Night- This video represents the numbness of the transitioning from autumn into winter, It's almost depressing, but at the same time it's riveting. Although the video is short, I feel that it is still moving. Videography by Justin Smith

Cosplay
Aubrey Fenn cosplay of Nao Egokoro from Your turn to die.
Short Storys
Alder - By Anonymous

This is a place called Alder. I know not from whence I came, as Alder has leached memory of anything but itself. I know only that in my home, the snow does not fall black. The sky does not swirl. There is such a thing as daylight. The creatures of the wild are gentle and small. It is not too hot, or too cold, or too wet, or too dark, or too quiet, sometimes. And when it is, there is always a remedy. I was not trapped in my own freedom. I could move without running, turn a corner without checking, stand without looking over my shoulder. I could trust such things as the sea and the sky and the dirt. I could rely on such things as trees and walls and clothes.

This has all been taken from me. Even as I write, I am being pursued. I don’t know from whence, I don’t know by whom, I don’t know how quickly, I don’t know since when. If someone finds this note, I bid you, run. You are not where you’re meant to be, and if I’ve dropped it, my assailant is close by, and never not hungry. I pray you did not follow a trail of discarded garments, and that if you did, you did not pick any up. It was cast aside for a reason, perhaps one beyond your current understanding. If it hasn’t turned on you yet, drop it as I did, and flee.

Do not stop fleeing. Do not stop running until your feet are back in your home. Everything here knows precisely where you are, and always will. You are being chased from all sides, always. You will not survive in one place. Move, confuse them, avoid them. Run, hide, and escape. I hope I’ve been able to do the same, but if this note is being read I’m likely somewhere out there. Do not trust the ground you tread on, or the trees you hide behind. Do not trust the cities glowing in the dark; they’re the worst of all. Do not trust humans; they’ve lost their minds here, and there’s no telling what they’ll do.

Most importantly, traveler, you mustn’t bleed. If you let them smell, taste, feel human insides on the air, you will not get away. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. Hiding out in town, someone else having been trapped here, tripped and scraped her knee. I daresay they were on her like dogs, only that would be an understatement. When they cleared out, she was gone. Completely gone, bones and all. No stains, no remnants. Just an empty street.

Then they looked to me. Hidden in the shadows, behind a barrel and through a window. Still, as one, they turned to stare directly into my eyes, although some didn’t have anything to stare with. The feeling remained. So take my warning, stranger. I haven’t been here long, but I’ve seen enough to know I’m correct. Do not take this warning lightly, or they’ll make short work of you.

There’s nothing more I can relay. I only hope this is found by someone capable, otherwise you’re as doomed as I was. And, since there’s no one to take responsibility for this hell you’ve found yourself in, I’m sorry. Goodnight, stranger. Be careful.

Poetry
Mystery Girl - By Anonymous

Mystery Girl

Mystery girl with mystery in her eyes and depth in her soul

She utters not a word but I hear it all

For I live in my mind not the hall

We have the same sculptor

Clay dust still on our hands

Our minds refined

Our hearts without worldly reservation

We walk past one another exchanging glances

Empty Seat Full Life - By Hyrum Stewart

Empty Seat Full Life

A void in place of the throne of God

What ignorance used to be filled with human significance is now empty

God is dead and we killed him!

The empty gaps once filled with baseless ignorance

Are now filled with knowledge

But our significance is empty

Look away from your reflection and ponder the future

For your destiny is yours there is no force you need adhere

That empty hole is a holy grail of opportunity

Our empty god is now filled with our own aspirations

Credits:

Created with images by Annie Spratt - "Fog" • Anna Kolosyuk - "untitled image" • TerryPapoulias - "camera cinema filmmaking" • Martin Adams - "A strange mood" • Jan Kahánek - "tabel day" • Dakota Corbin - "Classic literature bookcase"